Drumming Melodies
by SourSugarQuills
Summary: Never once did Kurt tell anyone about the drums that rang through his head.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Wow, this is what, my third one of these? Perhaps I should just rename this account: _Kurt_Hummel_Is_Actually_Someone_Else _rather than SourSugarQuills. Anyways, I digress.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even this idea. Nope, this has been done before me, this is just my slightly less-insane Kurt and more cannon-like Kurt. Anyway, I digress.

_ Drumming Melodies __by: SSQ_

Kurt awoke, gasping for breath. His sheets were damp and tangled, sticking horribly to his sweat soaked skin. He crawled out of bed dizzily, creeping to the bathroom as quiet as he could. 1-2-3-4, something pounded in his brain. He groaned mentally, preparing for another migraine.

The shower turned on with a creek as he peeled himself out of his pajamas. Stepping under the lukewarm spray, he hoped it wasn't too early. He couldn't be tired for Glee Club that day…

He washed his hair and skin with precision, rubbing his temples when the pounding grew louder. 1-2-3-4. As the foam slipped into the drain, he tried his best to relax under the water falling onto his skin, to forget. He sighed, turning off the shower and stepping out. He tapped his fingers on the wall, _1-2-3-4, _ wrapping himself up in a fluffy bathrobe.

"No rest for the wicked," He muttered to himself as he stared into the mirror, picking out his every flaw in the pale features of his. His eyes were red and tired, probably from the lack of sleep in…forever. Once he had moisturized and plucked and a thousand other things, he returned to his room, tapping a rhythm onto his skin. _1-2-3-4._

He dug out a sketchbook and a pencil, before flopping onto his bed and drawing_._ He hardly even realized it, over the years of the same thing happening again and again. He just relinquished his grasp on reality and drew. When he finished it was a respectable time, the picture placed carefully into a folder, ready to be brought to school. Perhaps his art teacher would like it, he mused.

Kurt had always loved art, he'd been drawing beautifully since a very young age. Terrifying things, really. Yet some things were so beautiful…All things he had seen in dreams. So many colors, objects, anything and everything the human brain could dream up. Evil robots called the cybermen, screaming out 'DELETE!', and odd peppershaker things with what seemed to be a whisk and a plunger that terrified him to bits when he was younger.

He walked upstairs, sassy and normal as ever. If anybody noticed the rhythm he tapped onto his plate-_1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4,_-they didn't say anything.

He took the Navigator to school per usual, a noise of drums still sounding in his head. His fingers itched to find something, anything to take the drums away. They ached to pull out the drawing from the night before, his mind whispering in sleep deprived hope. _The drums will go away, look, look!_

He told himself no, that he was driving. Besides, it was just a drawing, what good would that do against the drums that he couldn't even remember a time without? Instead his hand played absentmindedly around an old fashioned fob watch in his pocket. The perfect accessory with his outfit, he had thought that morning. His thumb traced carefully over the odd circular engravings. He drove to McKinley, hoping desperately that the bullies would stay away that day.

-=OOO=-

The day passed nearly uneventfully and once Kurt walked into his Art class, he was thanking his lucky stars. Only a few scathing comments about his sexuality were passed, and while it hurt every time the lack in numbers were a relief. He wasn't even slammed into a locker or slushied once!

The class used pastels that day, and he smiled. He always did like pastels. So volatile, so easy. He took a deep breath in and began to work.

He hardly noticed the time passing, just measuring it in actions. Line hear, smear there and such. He noticed that he finished later than others, though he ended up thoroughly satisfied with his work when done, not nitpicking like some did.Always the perfectionist, he thought with a smile, staring at the picture.

Two boys sat in a field of crimson vegetation, the sky a deep sunset behind them. The picture seemed to grin back from the desk, and he had the sneaking feeling he had forgotten something. He searched back into his memory, and remembered the picture he wanted to show from last night. He frowned slightly, because though he remembered he had drawn something, he had no idea what he had drawn. He dragged the folder from his things, violet and shiny against the dull tan desktop.

Throwing it open, he found a drawing so perfect it could have been a photograph. Not that the quality mattered much, most of his art did. Yet there was something so different in this one, so different that he stared transfixed. Because for the very first time, the drums beat out not just a rhythm, but a word.

_1-2-3-4_

_ Theta-Theta-Theta-Theta_

_ Theta will make the drums go away, _something whispered inside of him, like a thought, or perhaps a memory of one.

He gripped the pastel tighter as he hit it against the desk.

_ 1-2-3-4_

_ 1-2-3-4_

_ Theta._

_ 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4,_

_ Help me, Theta, please!_

_ 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4_

The drums grew louder, pounding and hitting against his cranium. _1-2-3-4_

He didn't know a life without the drums.

_Theta!_

_ Theta, help!_

The drums were everywhere, banging and echoing so-very-loudly-

The world went black.

AN: Three guesses who Theta is, if you all don't know already. I'll give you a hint, he's from Gallifrey. What Kurt encounters (The italics that aren't the drums,) are memories of thoughts/speech from a certain Time Lord's past. The reason he remembers without opening the fob watch is that there was a malfunction-I promise I'll place this all in another chapter, but just so you aren't confused.

Until next time,

~SSQ


	2. Chapter 2

Drumming Melodies

Chapter Two

An: Thank you all for reviewing! By the way-You go Shounengirl, four for you Shounengirl for getting who Theta is correct. So, I'm back, believe it or not. Ugh, you guys, Not updating for a few weeks-well, a month now- does not mean I'm abandoning a story. No, I usually only am sure I'm going to abandon a story after six months or so of disuse.

Anyways, loves, I am back and bring a chapter to you. So on with the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Disclaimer: I own neither Doctor Who nor Glee.

_Chapter Two_

When Kurt awoke, jeers were thrown around him. "Oh, look, the fairy fainted!" Some jock snorted.

"Who's this Hummel, your boyfriend?" Another taunted.

Kurt grounded his teeth, nails digging into his palms because the drums were _so, so loud-_

_Kill. Him. Kill. Him. _They tap. _Kill him, Kill him._

He physically shakes from the effort he exerts, something quiet in the back of his mind speaking quietly against the drums. _Theta wouldn't want me to kill him, _it reasoned. It gave him strength to stop himself from giving into the drums. Theta, Theta, who was this mysterious theta, he wondered.

But the idiotic teenager was waving around the photo of the man-_Theta, Theta-_like it was nothing. The only picture he had of him. Gritting his teeth more, he snatched the paper out of the bully's hands. Trying his best to ignore his peers, he made his way to glee.

-=OOO-=-

Kurt played with the hem of his shirt, ignoring all stares and comments as he walked to Glee. 1234, he tapped on his collar. 1234 1234, he repeated. It somewhat calmed him, as he took deep breaths and walked into the choir room.

"Kurt, hi!" Greeted Rachel, acting far more kind then she usually was.

"Hello, Rachel," He said cautiously.

"Kurt...Everybody has been saying things about what happened 3rd period." Rachel bit her lip. "What exactly happened in 3rd period?" She asked.

"If you're asking if I passed out, the answer is yes." He replied curtly.

"What happened?" Mercedes asked curiously.

"Oh you know... Probably a blood sugar imbalance or something." He replied, toying around with his hair.

"I didn't know you were diabetic, Kurt." Said Quinn, looking at Kurt strangely.

"I'm not." He shrugged.

The rest of the club frowned but did not voice their questions as Kurt sat down and Mr. Schue walked in.

There was something said about songs and that week's assignment, but Kurt didn't really quite catch it. Rachel sang some new ballad, though still his thoughts didn't even waiver into glee club's general direction. He was so tired that day, and he began to doze off, just a little.

1234, 1234. The drumbeat in his mind beat out a lullaby.

_Smoke rose up in columns and flames licked up every possible surface. He was running. "Have to get out," He murmured in fright. "Everything will burn. Theta, where are you?" He cried up at the sky of burning twin suns._

"Kurt? Kurt!" Someone shook him up.

"Hm? Whattisit?" He asked sleepily, hands going for a sketchpad and pencil he usually kept on his bedside table before he noticed he was not at home, but in fact in Glee.

"Dude, who is 'Theta'?" Asked Puck.

"What do you mean?" He asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. "How would I know?"

"You said that in your sleep." Said Finn. "You said 'Theta, where are you.'"

Kurt looked at him with a glare. "I was _asleep,_ Finn. I don't even remember what I was dreaming about." He scowled, hand playing with the fobwatch in his pocket.

"Kurt, are you alright? This is the second time you've lost consciousness in school."

"I'm just tired, is all." Shrugged Kurt. "I promise I won't fall asleep again in Glee." He agreed sincerely.

"Alright Kurt, but try to get more sleep tonight, okay?" Said Mr. Schuester.

"I'll try." Lied Kurt. He always tried to get more sleep, but it never worked.

"Okay, so everyone this week's theme is 'Origins'. I'll see you next week."

Mr. Schue dismissed.

Origins. What was he going to do for _Origins_. He groaned inwardly.

-=OOO=-

"What are you planning to do for this week?" Asked Rachel cheerily the next day.

"I'm going to do an old Jewish lullaby for mine."

"That's fascinating," Murmured Kurt. Lullaby... He could do a lullaby. What was that old lullaby his mother used to sing to him? He couldn't quite remember. He said something vague about his parentage to Rachel, before continuing onwards to his Lit class. However, His mind never strayed from the Glee assignment and what

Rachel had said. "Lullaby," He mumbled during lunch, frowning. Then I came to him, he finally remembered the song that his mother used to sing back when she

was there. His eyes lit up and he couldn't wait to get to Glee.

-=OOO=-

He waited impatiently as Rachel sung her Jewish song, tapping his foot. 1234.

1234. Finally, she sang the finishing line.

Grinning just slightly, Kurt announced to the group that he had something to sing.

"This is something my mother used to sing to me," He mumbled. He looked down to the paper where he had written the lyrics, finding they weren't normal Roman letters but instead odd looking circles.

A made up language, obviously. "It's not in English, but I'll sing it anyways."

He cleared his throat before beginning.

It was a pretty song, beautiful and soft. It was like Rachel's would have been, had she not switched suddenly to a song about the holocaust suddenly. High and sweet sounding the made up words were like bells-he didn't quite know how he remembered all the pronunciations, but somehow he did despite hearing it long ago.

He finished on a lower note, and smiled as the applause continued. "Very good

Kurt." Praised Mr. Schue.

"What language was that?" Asked someone.

"I'm not quite sure," Shrugged Kurt. "If I'm right, it something my mother made

up."

The Glee club looked at Kurt in an odd, 'If-you-say-so' Sort of way. "...Okay,"

Mumbles Mercedes, as Glee ended and everyone was free to go.

Kurt played with his fob watch absentmindedly.

"Nice watch Kurt," Said Rachel, reaching out to touch it. "Is that an antique?"

"I've had it for as long as I could remember, yes." Kurt snapped the watch back and placed it in his pocket. He was oddly protective of the strange heirloom, he noticed. Much more than he was for anything else. Hm. Weird, he thought to himself, before most memories of the watch vanished and he toyed with the broken clasp. He sighed, how more useless could such an item get-a watch that wasn't even able to tell time. He scoffed internally. Well, at least it was a nice accessory. He sighed, and walked out of glee, wondering about strange planets with two suns and circular languages.

AN: Okay, so not very big and probably not my best work. But I tried, and it's much better than the original draft of this *Shudder* You do _not _want to see the original version.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hello again; yes I'm sorry for the wait and I have no legit excuses other than that I'm addicted to reading fanfiction more than I am to writing it. But I digress; I have an answer for a certain question: Is Blaine going to play the doctor in this? The answer is no, so sorry if any of you were hoping he would. The reason is because of the fact there are far too many fics out there with Blaine as the Doctor. So, apologies. But anyway, thanks to all of you who reviewed and all of you who thought it was good, as it's much appreciated.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

_**Chapter Three**_

_I died today. Not regenerated, died. In the Doctor's arms, I fell back and died. _Kurt was awoken by his alarm clock beeping, as he took labored breaths. Running a hand through his slimy, sweat-slicked hair, he waited until his heartbeat calmed down before beginning his morning routine.

He snatched a piece of toast with his teeth as he sketched another picture in his notebook. A man with scruffy brown hair and tragic dark eyes who the drums called Theta stared back at him, lips parted and pleading. He hummed the tune of an odd song, and mumbled the melody. That day seemed like it wouldn't be nearly as bad as some of his usual days.

-=OOO=-

Walking down the halls of McKinley again, he began to doubt his first thoughts about the day. He'd been thrown into the dumpsters, pushed into lockers, slushied at least twice, and had innumerable malice-filled comments thrown his way. Thrown into another locker yet again, he rubbed his already aching back, just to find that he had an unknown lump in his right jacket pocket. Wondering what it was, he pulled it out to find that it was his pocket watch. "Ahh," He mumbled to himself. He must have unknowingly slipped it into his pocket sometime this morning. Drumming his fingers on the reflective surface of the back, he let his mind become near-bursting with the sound of his war march. 1234. 1234. 1234. 1234. He threw a hateful glance back at Karofsky, before picking up his items quickly. French was on the other side of school, and he didn't want to be late.

The silver fob-watch gleamed in the sunlight as he walked onwards, and Kurt didn't notice how the clasp didn't quite appear broken anymore.

-=OOO=-

He was in French class when it happened. A light breeze picked up outside, and he didn't think much of it. Then the wind grew slightly stronger and an odd noise filled the air. His classmates chattered quickly, wondering what such a wheezing noise like that could come from. But Kurt didn't join the chatter, he froze in his seat. He knew that noise, he'd heard it before though he didn't know where. The answer seemed to lie in the back of his mind, just behind the tip of his tongue where the drums lay. Frowning, he tried to search through his memories-surely he'd remember where he heard a sound like that? Though somehow, he couldn't. His eyes fell downwards, and he found himself playing with the watch again. A name came to mind, a fragment of a memory. "Theta Sigma, there's no way in this universe you're leaving me again," He growled-or did the memory of him growl it?- He didn't know. But he knew, somehow he knew, he had to get to that sound. He jumped up, and ran after it, ignoring the teacher shouting his name and the Jocks jeering some poorly thought out homophobic slur.

He skidded to a stop outside of a janitors closet and opened it, finding a big blue police box standing where it certainly shouldn't have been. The noise stopped, and the door opened with a creak. A curvy, ginger woman stepped out and a man with scruffy dark hair stepped out after her. "What's this spaceboy? Because it doesn't look too much like Italy!" Glared the woman to the man. Kurt watched speechless, the man looked just like the Theta from his drawings, the man from his dreams.

"For all you know we could be in Italy!" Glared back the man.

"Really?" The woman drew out her word with skepticism, and Kurt vaguely noticed that they both had British accents. "Because it looks a bit more like a broom cupboard then Italy, Doctor!" She scowled.

"Italy has broom cupboards!" Defended the man, before he finally noticed Kurt. "Ah, excuse me would you mind telling my friend where we are?" He asked.

"McKinley Highschool," Replied Kurt, slightly doubting the couple's sanity. "In Lima, Ohio?"

"Ohio you say?" Replied the woman, turning to the man with a raised eyebrow.

"…Okay, so maybe I guessed a little wrong." Mumbled the supposed 'Doctor' sheepishly.

"A _little?"_ She glared. "We're in bloody America!"

He winced, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Well they're not _really_ that far apart, I mean, all they have between them is the Atlantic Ocean…"

"Excuse me?" Asked Kurt. "Why do you think you're supposed to be in Italy? You must've known you were in Ohio for a while, you couldn't have just magically appeared in this closet."

The _Oh but they did,_ rings silently in the air. "Ah, um, yes. We must've uh, caught the wrong flight. Sorry to bother you, we'll be gone soon. This way, Donna." He pointed down the hall.

She hissed something to the man, but Kurt couldn't hear it. "By, Theta," He mumbled as they left. The man twitched, but didn't say anything. As he should have, it's not like Kurt actually knew the man after all.

-=OOO=-

"What about the TARDIS?" Hissed Donna as the Doctor pulled her down the hall. "Why are we even here?"

"Well we can't just have the kid know that we live in a box, now can we?" Scoffed the Doctor. "And as for why we're here, I have no idea, but I plan to find out."

-=OOO=-

Kurt watched as the couple left, wondering why he had bolted out of French and why those people were in a closet.

_You want to know? _ Asked the drums. _Open the watch. Open the watch._ They hissed and he tried to block out the sound but they were too strong, they were _inside_ of him and they demanded that he opened it. I can't I can't I can't, He thought back, It's broken! _Or is it?_ Replied the drums. _Look again, boy. _

He checked the watch. It's broken, I know it is! _1234. 1234. Guess again. Don't look, just open._ He pressed the clasp, going through the motions as if he could undo it. It opened, and he looked inside of the supposed time-piece.

_1234. 1234. 1234. 1234. 1234._ Gold light was everywhere, and he didn't know what was happening. Memories, knowledge filled his mind, and _ohRassilionithurtsomuch. 1234. 1234. _

_Koschei, Koschei and Theta. Friends, brothers. Everything and nothing. Infinite. Without each other, they would be nothing._

_Gallifrey-red grass and mountaintops and pastures and suns-The citadel, the academy, the untempored Schism-_

_The Drums._

_Doctor-Theta?-Doctor! Theta. Theta Sigma._

_Changing names-Koschei-No, he's the master now, remember? _

_Theta's married and something tugs at his chest-"You don't need the Doctor, Koschei." He tells himself._

_Then Theta's leaving and he's all alone and maybe he thinks he does need the Doctor after all._

_Everything Burns, and occasionally he wishes he was the ashes instead of the survivor._

AN: Well, there's a few hours wasted. Yay for procrastination! Anyway, please review. If you don't review then I think it's bad and I'll probably abandon it.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry about the wait again. I know I take forever to update… But look on the bright side, it's still here, see? On with the show!

Disclaimer: Do you know the definition of Disclaimed? Because it means to not claim something. Therefore, I don't own anything.

_**Chapter Four**_

_Everything burns and occasionally he wished he was the ashes instead of the survivor._

The Master gasped, falling back against the lockers. Time Lords should never use chameleon circuits for extended periods of time; his mind supplied. Especially if the chameleon circuit was outdated or his regeneration had left him in an infantile state. It could mess with a timelord's head, and his head was the most messed up of all.

The memories of Kurt Hummel still felt normal in the Master's head, and the two were far too combined for the Master's tastes. To think, the master of all reduced to a filthy human being!

Still, he could feel the poorly disguised malice in the child's memory; he knew the potential that could lie in his bones had he not been such a bloody angel all the time. Never fought back, took the moral high ground, why the kid was as bad as the doctor sometimes!

He wouldn't regenerate, though. He rather liked this body, he thought, toying with the bowtie on his neck. Well…Not too much. It reminded him an awful lot like his original regeneration. He hated his original regeneration. So weak, so pathetic, so compassionate…Hrrmph. All the worst qualities there were.

Slicking his hair back and straightening his clothes, the almighty Master stood up and grinned. He had a timelord to find.

Not only a timelord, but his favorite plaything too, the Doctor. Oh yes, he could act out the concerned, completely innocent gay teenage boy if need be, but he had a master plan to create.

_Intermission is over, Doctor, _He thought with manic grin._ Time to let the games commence. _

-=OOO=-

"Doctor, I don't understand why we can't just go back to the TARDIS and go to Italy," Argued Donna.

"I told you, something is here and we need to investigate." He replied, hair everywhere as he sonic the door.

"You've got a time machine! It'll still be here when we get back!" She crossed her arms with a huff.

"We're already here, Just think of it as a pit stop on our road trip through space. Y'know, see some sights, do some tourist stuff before heading out on the road."

"A pit stop." She grumbled. "How nice."

"Don't be so negative, it'll be fun!" He huffed, opening the school door.

"Bloody Spacemen," She mumbled.

"A highschool. Of all places, why would it drop us off at a highschool?" Muttered the Doctor, completely ignoring Donna's harsh words about men from space. "Come on, think! What goes on in highschools?"

"The killing of the soul?" Donna asked, ginger eyebrow raised. "Acne? A whole lot of hormones?"

"Nothing like _that,"_ The doctor waved his sonic Screwdriver, dismissing the idea.

"I dunno, some kids being jerks to others?" She supplied. "I know! Maybe you're going to stop some future leader from killing their selves!" She tried with a smile.

"Maybe. But most likely no." He replied. "It has to be the highschool, otherwise the TARDIS wouldn't have brought us there."

"Maybe it was an error? Maybe it meant Venice, Italy, but it got a few coordinates wrong and brought us here instead?"

"The TARDIS doesn't make mistakes," He scoffed, turning and walking in a random direction. "Well, are you coming or not?" He asked. "If I'm right, school will be ending soon."

-=OOO=-

The master smiled evilly, his plans falling into place in his mind. Yes…A little acting as oh-so-very-homosexual Kurt Hummel wouldn't do him any harm. The Doctor would come to him, eventually.

Now, what did this pathetic human version of himself do? …Oh, yes, the disgusting glee club of his where he wasn't even appreciated, despite the obvious talent even _he_ admitted lived inside the boy's-no, his-lungs.

A shrill sound of the bell pierced the air, and he winced in distaste. All the years humans had lived and they still told their young that studies were over by a whistle. How much more evidence was needed to show what doglike scum the earthlings were?

People flooded through doors, and soon many of the revolting beings filled the halls. They bumped into him and threw jeers every which way, and he could feel his temper growing short. A dull pain hit his palms, and looking down he saw he had unconsciously dug his fingernails into his hands.

Rassilion, he had forgotten how loud and obnoxious humans were. Particularly adolescents. He could_ smell_ the hormones in the air, he knew of every little sweat drop on their bodies, and it was utterly disgusting.

How he managed to get to the choir room without either killing someone or passing out was beyond him, what with the attacks on his senses. Ugh, he hoped he didn't have to do this much longer. The drums were begging him to kill someone, _anyone._ Yet he relented. He couldn't lose to the drums, not again.

So he settled for scowling at every one of his former friends, picking out every flaw of theirs and wondering why he could have ever liked them in the first place, with or without the chameleon arch.

There was Rachel Berry, utter diva and strong believer of the idea of her being a good singer, despite her puny human lungs. Ambitious, but far too easily crushed to be his equivalent of the Doctor's companions.

Then there was Mercedes Jones, a sassy, overweight girl who once-upon-a-time was Kurt's best friend. He supposed she could make a good ruler of the world, but her nice-ness and compassion existed, so she was really just an annoying tool. He doubted she could do much running, anyways, though perhaps plied with a great amount of luxuries she would look the other way while the world suffered beneath them…

Finn Hudson was next, the annoying, idiotic quarterback of the football team. Even the most idiotic of timelords were a genius compared to this boy, good ol' Kurtie's secret crush. But the Master could see the sweat on the boy's skin as he come from gym, and the intensified smell made him nauseous.

Noah "Puck" Puckerman came after Finn, and pheromones hit him intensely. The master scrunched up his nose, raising his eyebrow and glaring. It was like being with the freak all over again, minus the pleasure in killing him over and over. Old tormentor indeed, the football player was nothing like Harkness after that, being fairly homophobic which he didn't need the memories of Kurt to tell him, just the body language. Absentmindedly, he wondered if it stemmed from hatred of his own (perhaps) not so straight heterosexuality, the teen's gigantic wish to be the manliest of men. No, it was just the base desire to hate things people didn't understand. How boring.

The "Unholy Trinity" of cheerleaders entered next, cheerleading uniforms twirling with every slight movement. Quinn Fabray, Santanna Lopez, and Brittany.

Rassilion, Brittany. _Finn Hudson_ was smarter than the girl.

Santanna Lopez stood by her side, supposedly everything the name "Satan"-na implied, but he could see through the cruel exterior. No, that girl was hardly the type of person he could take over the universe with. At least Lucy had malice.

Quinn Fabray came third, and that girl had strength despite her oh-so troublesome morals. Yes, she'd be perfect for universe overtaking, but it wasn't like he would ever overtake the universe with another person again, let alone a blonde woman, after what happened with Lucy.

Once everyone was settled in, Mr. Schuester walked in and Glee commenced. Straightening out his hair, the master stared out the window, tapping the drums on his leg. 1234, 1234.

_You better come running, Doctor,_ Thought the master with a grin. _Because I'm back, and here comes the drums!_

AN: Alright, so there's an update, my pretties. Rejoice. Anyway, if anyone watches Torchwood as well as Glee and Doctor Who there is this really great Glee and Torchwood crossover fic called "Gone and Back Again" Which I occasionally consult while writing, in case you'd like to read it. Caution, it is Klaine in that fic, and a little AU. But, it is a good fic, despite my (Personal) Dislike of the ending, but I don't know, maybe you like it even more than I do. Just thought I'd put that out there. Anyway, I hope all your weeks (And thanksgiving, if you live in America,) Were great.

Thanks so much for reading this far,

~SSQ


	5. Chapter 5

**Drumming Melodies **

_Disclaimer: NO Claiming here! I own nothing!_

**Chapter Five**

"Mr. Schuester," The Master smiled condescendingly at the glee club director. "Before we begin I'd like to sing something, if I may." Polite little Kurt. The hated little Kurt.

The man gestured with open arms. "The stage is yours, Kurt."

He slowly made his way to the center of the choir room. "The song is called Voodoo Child." He grinned, rather in love with the song.

__

"You're like Voodoo baby,  
You just take hold.  
Put your cards on the table baby,  
Do I twist do I fold?

You're like Voodoo Honey  
All silver and gold?  
Why don't you tell me my future?  
Why don't I sell you my soul.

So here it comes - the sound of drums.  
Here comes the drums, here comes the drums ?

Baby, baby, baby!  
You are myVoodoo Child - my Voodoo Child

Don't say maybe, maybe  
It's Supernatural - I'm coming undone?

You're like Voodoo baby,  
Your kisses are cold!  
Feel your poison running through me?  
Let me never grow old.

You're like Voodoo honey,  
My pictures you stole?  
You play me like a puppet.  
Sticking pins in a doll!

So here it comes - the sound of drums.  
Here comes the drums, here comes the drums ?

Baby, baby, baby!  
You are my Voodoo Child - my Voodoo Child

Don't say maybe, maybe  
It's Supernatural - I'm coming undone?

Baby, baby, baby!  
You are my Voodoo Child - my Voodoo Child

Don't say maybe, maybe  
It's Supernatural - I'm coming undone? "

The song was complete with a slight dance number-just the right amount of winks and smiles and sashays in the correct places.

"That was great, Kurt." The teacher fixed his collar as he clapped. "Really great."

"Must have taken quite a bit of practice," A strangely new, British voice called over the half-hearted applause.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Schuester turned to the man the same time as The Master did-The Master knew that voice…

Oh yes, His Doctor.

"Ah, yes, sorry," The Doctor ran a hand through his hair and showed off a bit of psychic paper. "I'm Doctor John Smith from.."

"The Board of Arts!" Mr. Schuester said in a slight amount of shock.

"Yeah, that." The Doctor cleared his throat and motioned to the ginger woman beside him. "And this is my…Cousin, Donna Noble."

Hm, he'd never met this companion before. He wondered if she was anything like Martha Jones, but judging by the lack of hero-worshipping looks directed at The Doctor, she was nothing of the sort.

"We're here for a-" The Doctor began.

"We're here because the board is going to give a scholarship to a talented individual!" Donna finished for him.

The Doctor fixed his collar and coughed. "Yes. That."

"A scholarship?" Rachel Barbra Berry asked, unable to keep the glee out of her voice. "Well, Mr. Smith, I could gladly show you my rendition of _Don't Rain On My Parade_-"

The Master scowled. This was_ his _Doctor, damn it, and Berry need to Stay. The Hell. Away. "Another time, Rachel." He glared at her cruelly. "I do believe the _Doctor_ had something to say to me?" His emphasis on the title was minute, nearly impossible to notice, but he saw the Doctor's wary sideways look.

"Ah, yes. That I was." He cleared his throat. "A bit odd of a song choice, don't you think? I didn't think that band was popular around these parts."

Oooh, playing the Ohio card. Low-blow, Doctor, low blow. The master thought, rolling his eyes. "It's an old favorite of mine." He smiled, a little sadistically and sickeningly sweet.

"I used to have a friend who liked it too," The Doctor said, smiling in a slightly masochistic way.

"What was his name?" He asked, still playing naïve.

"His name…His name was Koschei." The Doctor's face was grim, and The Master felt a surge of anger rush through him. _How dare he use that old, childhood name, he has no right-_He calmed himself, stopping his itching fingers from tapping out his drums.

"Rather odd name," The Master remarked innocently, outstretching a hand. "I'm Kurt Hummel, nice to meet you sir."

The Doctor took it, shaking enthusiastically. His hand was warm and dry, he noted. His Doctor always did have such nice hands. "You too," The Doctor replied.

"I've got another song prepared, if need be, Dr. Smith." The Master plastered a smile on his face.

"Oh no, that won't be necessary," The Doctor shook his head. "Just go on about practice as normal, it'll be like we aren't even here!" He grinned pulling his companion over and taking a seat in the back.

_**-=Earlier=-**_

The halls were flooded with teenagers. "Doctor, I swear I'm gonna kill you for bringing me back to high school." Donna huffed under her breath.

"Aw, come on Donna," The Doctor drawled. "It's not that bad. Try The Academy; now that's a place I would _not_ want to be." He winced at the thought. "Not a very pleasant place, the Academy."

"Oh, it's alright for you to dislike school, but me, eh spaceman?" She crossed her arms.

"No! Well, yes. But Timelords are different from humans; much more strict and more creative at the same time."

"Well where is all that pent up creativity supposed to go in a place like Gallifrey? I once knew a woman who was so obsessed with her science experiment that she let the mice grow until they were big enough to eat a cat." The Timelord shrugged.

Donna just stared at him, a concerned expression pulled across her features.

"But you humans! You fill your after school schedule with sports and clubs and…" The Doctor froze, a song filling the air. "…Music."

"Oi, I know that song." Donna noted. "Not sure where from, though." Her face was inquisitive as she tried to remember.

The Doctor turned around, a solemn look in his eyes and-was that a little bit of fear? "I do," He breathed. "And if it means what I think it does, then we're in very big trouble." He grabbed her hand, pulling her behind him as he ran.

"Where are we going?" She called breathlessly.

"Towards the music!"

"Yeah, that much is obvious, Martian!"

"Well, then why did you ask?...And for the last time, I'm not from Mars!"

"Do you have any idea_ where _it's coming from?!"

The Doctor paused. "Well…no. But timelord hearing is superior to a human's, so I can tell."

"Oh, so you do know?"

"Yeah, 'course I do."

A small ginger woman cleared her throat. "It's in the choir room, down the hallway to your right."

The doctor froze, turning to look at the woman.

"You are talking about the glee club, right? You were talking about music, so I just assumed…" She fiddled with her hands.

"Yes! Yes that is exactly what we're looking for. Thank you very much Ms…"

"Pillsbury. Emma Pillsbury." The woman blushed.

"I'm The Doctor, Emma, it's great to meet you." He smiled.

"Practice should be starting soon so you better go." She gestured to the hall with a pen, smiling weakly.

"Right, yeah. Nice meeting you!" He grinned, running down the hall.

Donna sighed before running after him. "Wait up!"

-=**Present Time=-**

So, this week's theme is Mentality," The teacher began. "We need a good mindset to get us to Nationals, so you need to prepare us a song that shows us this. We need to take control ad show that judges that we don't just need it, we deserve it." He scrawled the word across the whiteboard. "We're going to take that trophy if it's the last thing we do."

The girl in the front row with the sweaters-her name was Rachel, wasn't it?-clapped enthusiastically,

"And to add to the dramatics of the day," The director glanced at The Doctor briefly. "This week's assignment will be boys against girls."

Kurt, the boy who sang before, raised his hand. (Koschei, Koschei, his mind murmured traitorously, because Koschei was dead, had been dead since even before The Master died. Koschei died hundreds of years ago, back when he stole a TARDIS and left Koschei far behind on Gallifrey, their grandchild sneaking along with him.)

He couldn't help it though, somehow their eyes were the same; the same piercing blue that had haunted him as a child, had followed him and cared in his youth. The same blue eyes that used to shine on him with so much love…

"No Kurt, you can't be part of the girl's team." The coach said. (What did they say his name was, Shoe? That sounded about right.) The boy stared at him with obvious contempt.

"Actually," He frowned. "I was going to thank the _dearest _Doctor and his cousin for coming along today, as well as ask them if perhaps they'd like to judge the competition."

"Kurt," Shoe sighed long-sufferingly. "That is entirely innappropriate. I'm certain that our guests have better things to do than judge the competition-"

"Actually," The Doctor cut in. "I think that would be a wonderful idea." Call him a sentimental fool, but he wanted to hear the boy sing again, pretend he was Koschei and revel in old memories.

Donna hissed a "What?" In his ear, and Shoe thanked him profusely, but the Doctor's eyes never left the boy's face as a devilish smirk curled around Kurt's features.

"Well, in that case, I would like to suggest a song for the boys to sing. It's called _Riot,"_ His eyes never left the Doctor's, either. "And I think some of us might find it very…Enlightening."

The Doctor finally noticed the rhythm that Donna was tapping against her chair. A quick look to his own fingers and he stared at them, the constant tapping of drums.

_No, _He thought to himself, horrified. _It can't be. He's dead._

There was only one person in all of the cosmos who he knew to have that strong of telepathic influence. He stilled his fingers, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

_Surely he's not aware of it,_ he decided, scanning the two large groups of teens. _No one flinched when I said Koschei. The lack of immense destruction speaks for it too. So, chameleon arch. It's not like it's the first time…_ He mused, thinking back to Professor Yana.

_I wonder who it is…And what'll happen to Donna and I once he/she finds out._

AN: So…Sorry for the gigantically horrible long wait? It's not the best of my chapter's either, but hey, it's longer than usual!


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hello Friends, guess who's back!~ Yes, that's right; me! Sorry about the horribly long wait, I was planning to update in June but then I never got around to it and I had French camp...So, sorry, loves. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and support!

Also, apologies for the gratuitous use of the word "Spaceman".

Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all.

Chapter Six

_"Thete!"_

_"Koschei!"_

_The dual suns shone brightly above their heads. "I missed you so much!"_

_"You were only gone a year," He protested._

_"I still missed you, Theta."_

_He smiled into Koschei's hair. "I missed you too."_

-=OOO=-

Donna walked through the TARDIS, unable to sleep. "Doctor?" She called, catching the iconic mop of dark hair moving in the kitchen.

"Donna," The Doctor said, looking up from his concoction.

"Can't sleep?"

He made a noncommittal gesture.

"Neither can I," She sighed. "Hey, don't you think we should have found somewhere else to sleep? I mean, we never actually left the building. The faculty will worry, won't they?"

"Hm? Nah, I doubt they even notice us at all. I'm making a banana milkshake. You want one?"

"Doctor, why are you up?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Really, why aren't you asleep?"

"Timelords don't-"

"You have to rest that big brain of yours at some point, Spaceman."

"It's nothing," He shrugged, eyes firmly on the milkshake in his hand. "I'm fine. Want a milkshake?" He asked, victoriously holding up his yellowish, foamy drink.

"I'm good, thanks." She stood up. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. If you want to talk you know where I am."

"Donna?" He said as she left. "Thanks."

"No problem, Spaceman," She murmured. "No problem."

-=OOO=-

The next day, the Master showed up to school with a brand new laser screwdriver. He didn't tell anyone that it was a laser screwdriver, of course. He told Mercedes that it had to do with a TV show he watched. Hm, wouldn't that be fun; start a television show about the Doctor and watch him get mauled by fans wherever he went, the Master mused. It'd be hilarious, at least. Waving away the idea, the Master walked to Kurt's art class, straighting his bowtie with a saunter.

"Hey, Fairy!" Some jocks jeered from the side of the hallway. The Master frowned. He had forgotten about this part of Kurt's life.

He detested them. Opening his mouth to tell them off, he felt two meaty hands pushing him into the lockers. Feeling the bruises forming already, he looked up to face his attacker.

David Karofsky. The worst tormentor Kurt ever had.

"Oi, what's going on here?" A certain voice barked from the crowd.

Ohh, Doctor. Off to save the day again.

"Nothing, uh, sir." His attackers coughed. "Hummel here just fell into the lockers."

"Really?" He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Because it looks to me like you pushed him."  
"N-No, sir, he fell."

"All the same," The ginger woman from before joined in. "Why don't you help Mr. Hummel up, since he_ fell,_ and we'll walk him to the nurse."

Oh, now he remembered who she was. The Doctor's friend, from the last time they met. Funny, there was something wrong with her then, wasn't there?

Karofsky hoisted him up reluctantly, and the Master snatched his hands away. "I'm not your damsel in distress," He hissed at the Doctor.

"I never said you were."

"You didn't have to." Quite elegantly, the Master marched off.

"Well he's thankful," Donna rolled her eyes.

"I once knew a friend just like him;" The Doctor said. "Never wanted to be saved."

"Yeah," Donna looked at the Doctor with a sad smile. "I know someone, too."

-=OOO=-

The Master was brooding, quite obviously brooding. He stomped down the hallway with a glare on his face, and no one but his "friends" attempted to go anywhere near him.

"Kurt," Mercedes said, voice full of caution. "What's the matter."

He laughed bitterly. "Like you haven't already heard." He sneered.

"We sort of did," Rachel began. "But what we don't know is why you're so upset. Somebody finally called out the jocks on their behavior, we all thought you'd be happy!"

"I refuse to let that man think he's 'saved' me." He snarled.

"What? Kurt he stopped the bullies, I thought that was what you wanted!"

"Yes, that was what _he_ wanted! But since it took you so long to notice, Berry, I'm not Kurt Hummel!"

"What...?" She took a step back. "Kurt, what's going on-"

The Master looked up at the ceiling and huffed. "Not Kurt, Berry, do your best to remember that."

"Alright, I know you don't think so," She had fear in her eyes. "But you're Kurt Hummel. And we're going to take you down to the nurse to where you can stay until you remember who you are."

dI'm not him The Master wanted to say, but that went against the plan, and he had already strayed from it so far.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Sorry," He began again, voice confused. "What just happened?" He acted.

Berry began to say something, but Mercedes cut her off with a hand to her mouth. "Nothing Kurt. Let's go to class."

-=OOO=-

"I have made this meeting because we are faced with a very serious problem," Rachel said in a hushed voice.

"Rachel, we're supposed to be in third period," Finn complained.

"Yes, but," She began again. "Mercedes and I have reason to believe that Kurt's suffering from multipersonality disorder!"

"All respect, Berry," Puck began. "But shouldn't Hummel be the one telling us this?"

"Exactly, Rachel," Mercedes interrupted. "Kurt doesn't remember what happened, and it's never happened before. If we don't bring it up, maybe it'll all just blow over!"

"Just because a mental disorder hasn't been diagnosed doesn't mean it's not there," Rachel said, glaring. "Something has to be done about it!"

"We aren't going to drag him to a mental hospital kicking and screaming!" Mercedes countered.

"Guys! Guys!" Quinn broke up the fighting. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go to Glee and we're going to pretend that everything is fine. If it happens again, we'll tell someone, alright?"

The group chorused their agreement.

"Good. Now, I'm missing group assignment on Bradbury, so I'm going to go back to third hour. I'll see you all at Glee."

-=OOO=-

"Is everybody hyped up for this weeks competition?" Mr. Schue asked with a smile. "We've got our judges," He motioned to the Doctor and Donna in the center of the room. "And first up is the boys team."

The Master could feel their questioning gazes on them the moment they stepped into the room. "Everybody ready?" He asked with a nervous grin.

They nodded, picking up their instruments and beginning to play.

"If you feel so empty," Finn began. The Master wasn't dull, he knew that his voice wasn't ideal for a song like this, let alone all the backlash he would get if he tried to make it into a solo for himself.

"So used up, so let down," The Master joined in, his grin just a little more manic.

They did quite well, he supposed. He had forced them into doing a dance routine along with it, and it was quite a good song.

"Let's start a riot!" They finished quite well. It was pleasant, and he noticed both the Doctor and his friend and the girls applauding quite enthusiastically.

"Great job, guys!" Mr. Schue clapped them on the back. "Next we'll have the girls with One Day More from Les Miserables."

They did fine too, Tina was an excellent Thenardier and the revolutionaries bit was quite good as well.

"And the winner is..." Mr. Schue drummed his hands on the table.

"The boys team!"

The group grinned and to the Master's near amazement, even congratulated him.

"Hey Kurt," Quinn asked, trying to hide her eying him suspiciously and failing horribly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Quinn," He grinned at her. "Better than ever."

Mr. Schue and the Glee club had finally left, but Donna and the Doctor and The Master were all still there. "Really great job you did there," The Doctor congratulated.

"The song was chosen for a reason, you know,"  
"Really, what was it?" Donna said.

The Master looked at his old enemy. "I'd like to dedicate it to an old friend of mine. Someone who really ought to stop playing by the rules for once."

"What's their name?" She continued asking him absentmindedly.

"His name was Theta Sigma," The Master grinned.

The Doctor felt his heart stop.


End file.
